


oh blame, blame, blame

by editorwilbur



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, this is NOT ship i cannot emphasize this enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorwilbur/pseuds/editorwilbur
Summary: With adjusting eyes, Phil can see where Techno is sitting up in his bed. "Hey." Phil's voice is filled with tears, and speaking just makes him want to cry more."Dreaming?""Yeah.""Anything good?""No," and oh, that admission is what finally makes him crack.
Relationships: Technoblade (Dream SMP) & Philza (Dream SMP)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 87





	oh blame, blame, blame

**Author's Note:**

> title from blame by bastille

It's not something Phil would ever admit out loud, but he's started getting nightmares.

They began after Doomsday. He can't quite place why. One would think they'd be sparked by all those years in Hardcore, or the death ~~murder murder he'd been the one to call that blood to the surface to the ground to his hands~~ of his son, but no. No, Phil could never have anything in his life make sense.

He doesn't scream when he wakes up, just lies on his back frozen, tears in his eyes, and tries and fails to steady his breathing. Shuddered gasps almost echo around the space. He brings his hands up to cover his mouth just too late to catch the first sob.

There's the soft sound of movement from across the room. "Phil?"

With adjusting eyes, Phil can see where Techno is sitting up in his bed. "Hey." Phil's voice is filled with tears, and speaking just makes him want to cry more.

"Dreaming?"

"Yeah."

"Anything good?"

"No," and oh, that admission is what finally makes him crack.

Phil has never been one for loud wails and sobs. The sounds that escape him are choked back, a majority of his misery escaping in waterfalls of tears. He can only lie on his back and shake and gasp and hurt.

"Oh, Phil." It's easy to hear Techno get out of bed and practically rush to his side. "Move over."

Neither of them are really ones for physical contact, so it's a surprise when Techno lies down next to Phil and pulls the older close, tucking Phil's head into his chest and clutching him tight. 

Techno is strong. He's always given the best hugs. It makes perfect sense that Phil feels absolutely safe in his arms, safe enough to let himself break.

Phil balls his fists in the front of Techno's shirt and _sobs_ with heaving, gasping breaths and tears and snot. He cannot stop shaking. He cannot stop breaking. He isn't even really thinking of anything coherent, just endless and blurred moments filled with blood and pain and loneliness ~~and he killed Wilbur he killed his only son how could he do that how could he betray everything he's ever loved with just two swipes of his sword how was it so easy how was he how did he _how could he-_~~

The only time Techno lets go is to pull Phil's weighted blanket up off the floor and over the two of them. That familiar weight and the deep-set comfort and protection of Techno being nearby help Phil calm down, help Phil feel safer. Calmer. More himself.

Neither of them are really ones for contact.

Right now, both of them need the contact.

It's unclear how much time has passed when Phil can finally breathe with some semblance of quiet. The tears flowing from his eyes don't quite stop, but at the very least he's not longer tearing up his throat with sobs.

The next concrete move Techno makes is to gently remove the blanket and lift Phil up into a sitting position. "Do you want some water? Maybe tea?"

Phil nods. "Are... Can..." He swallows. It hurts. "I don't want to be alone."

"That's alright. Come on with." Techno stands and then extends his arm.

They walk together out of their shared bedroom and down the hall to Techno's small sort-of kitchen, Phil clutching onto Techno's forearm the whole way. Phil gets sat down in a chair by the table they typically share meals and plans at, and Techno goes over to look through his cabinets. He doesn't like tea, normally he would refuse it, but Phil lets Techno pick out a nice lemon-peppermint one. It's the kind of night where something warm like that is necessary. 

"Can I get you a blanket or something?" Techno sets his tea kettle over the fire.

Phil is still shaking, with the occasional full-body tremor rushing violently through him. "That would be nice, yeah."

Blanket retrieval does mean Techno has to leave Phil's presence, but luckily he returns almost immediately with a thick, fluffy blanket. He drapes it around Phil's shoulders, then returns to the tea.

It's soft and warm. Phil pulls it tight around himself. There aren't sobs in his throat anymore, but tears are still welling up and flowing down his cheeks. He lets them fall and drip.

The water boils. Techno picks out a plain dark green mug. He drops the tea sachet in, slowly pours in the water, and then does a finishing touch of stirring in some honey. He brings the mug over and sets in front of Phil.

Phil stares at the tea, at the steam rising off it.

Techno sits next to him and slides over a box of tissues.

Thank fuck.

Phil lets go of the blanket, grabs a tissue, and then blows his nose so hard his ears almost ring. He does it again and again until there's a small pile of tissues on the table and he can breathe close to normal. He still can't stop his tears, but they've at least slowed enough that they dry on his face. 

By this point, the tea has cooled enough that he can start to sip it. Techno sits there and watches, and normally Phil would feel self-conscious but it's _Techno_ , the only person still living he can completely trust.

The tea isn't all that bad.

They sit in semi-comfortable silence, Phil using the tea more as something warm to hold than as a proper beverage. It's gentle and slightly sweet from the honey. It's nice.

When he finishes drinking it, he sets the mug down and finally wipes at his eyes. Phil hates crying.

He'd really needed to cry.

"Back to bed?" Techno's voice is quiet and gentle. "We can talk in the morning. If that's something you want."

Phil nods. He doesn't really want to speak. His throat hurts.

Techno guides him again, Phil clinging to his arm once more as they return to their bedroom. Techno changes his shirt quickly, ~~Phil has to shove down his guilt for crying on it~~ , and then flops onto his side on his bed and opens his arms.

The invitation is there.

Who is Phil to say no?


End file.
